The whole trip was pretty uneventful until my plane ride home, where one of my most dreaded and obscure fears was realized. Let me play it out for you:
I boarded the plane in Orlando for Dallas. I was supposed to be in Group 2, but I have this sneaky way of getting in with Group 1 because I'm clinically impatient and also because American Airlines doesn't really care when you board.
I found my seat– an aisle seat. I usually prefer window seats but I'm always scared I'll have to use the bathroom and awkwardly crawl over my row-mates to get there. ANYWAY, I sat down and got to work on my favorite past time, people-watching/judging. My favorite airplane boarders are girls who clearly had a rough night and are wearing some sort of leopard-printed ensemble and I look at them like:
I paused my judgement activities to browse my cellular device when all of a sudden, I've got an adolescent ginger boy straight-up STRADDLING ME in an effort to get to his window seat and I look up like:
He looked back at me, but said nothing. I scrambled to get up at the same time the boy's dad grabbed him on the shoulder and scolded him for not saying "excuse me." But in my head I'm like, "no excuse necessary, man, I just want to forget I ever had a strange 13 year old boy IN MY LAP." This had me so disheveled I didn't realize that lap-boy's entire family of four has flaming red hair until ginger mom shouted, "WELL YOU JUST LOOK LIKE YOU BELONG WITH US!! HAHEHAHEHAA" and I'm polite so I was like:
This whole family was seated on my row, and to make it worse, I was seated between the kids and the parents. At this time, I should tell you guys how awkward it makes me feel to be around other redheads. There are a very select few I don't mind being around. And maybe you think that's stupid, but the passengers of Flight 1421 proved why you're wrong. At least every third person who passed us thought they were sOoOo clever asking, "is this the redhead row? HARHARHAR" and after the second person I was already like:
To which I was like, uh, hey girl, YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM:
Then I thoroughly enjoyed my whiskey/coke and we landed and all went separately about our ginger lives.